


this present darkness is swallowed by light

by interestobscura



Series: wings [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, THAT SCENE, just wanted that scene in word form, you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26528521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interestobscura/pseuds/interestobscura
Summary: She flaps her wings experimentally and they lift by a few inches, the draft creating rivulets in the water surface beneath them. Yasha can’t stop the breathless laugh from bursting through her chest; hears it mirrored by Beau, still cradled gently in her arms.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: wings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1928998
Comments: 11
Kudos: 75





	this present darkness is swallowed by light

She flaps her wings experimentally, and they lift by a few inches, the draft creating rivulets in the water surface beneath them. Yasha can’t stop the breathless laugh from bursting through her chest; hears it mirrored by Beau, still cradled gently in her arms. 

Yasha wills herself higher, and by some miracle her body responds, coasting seamlessly through the air, the wind roaring in her ears. For most of her life, Yasha has always felt like a stranger in her own skin, that discomfort manifesting in her gut instinct to perpetually make herself smaller, nonthreatening, unnoticeable. The only times she’s managed to forget about her physicality is when she’s neck deep in gore, too far into the mindless rage to care about such things as self-image. This is the freest she’s felt in a lifetime. She rises over the waterfall almost by instinct, guided by whim, Beau rising with her.

She thinks about the woman currently in her arms, always in motion, knuckles constantly bruised and naked, so unlike Yasha’s own suffocating passivity. She’s spent so long in stasis, groaning under her own restraints. Now, when Beauregard catches her eye, Yasha looks back. They haven’t talked about it, but it doesn’t feel like avoidance. It feels like the space between breaths, the slow blooming of a late bud. Fragile. Undeniable. 

Zuala still sits heavy between her lungs; her heart is far from unbroken. In her worst moments, Yasha thinks she doesn’t even deserve to die, doesn’t get to have that relief, cannot be released so easily from suffering. Her very nature will not allow it. 

Despite all this, hope, like so many small feathers, still blossoms from her back. Yasha doesn’t know what it means, to have been the cause of so much suffering and still be allowed something so beautiful.

She likes the way Beau fits in her arms. 

Her nerves spark, her lips buzz like the coming of a storm. Everything seems heightened, the crash of the waterfall into the jungle trees, the gold of the sunlight through the clear air. The ever-present mist has lifted, allowing the true colours of the land to reveal themselves. 

Their conversation still comes in fits and starts, but however awkward both of them get it never sounds discordant, never gets harsh. It's always one gently probing the other, soft are you okays and how are you feelings and unwavering silent support. Yasha always takes the time to tune her harp before she plays, in this she is no different. 

To the other members of the Mighty Nein, it may seem like they’re taking it too slow. Ever since she got back, Yasha has paid a special mind to Beau’s wellbeing, and she knows her actions don’t go unnoticed by the rest. Caleb might not have said it outright, but it was clear to the both of them what his tentative advice was aimed at. The Yasha of her previous tribe - younger, eager, less weathered by the years - that Yasha might have agreed. After all, it didn’t take long for Zuala and her to fall into love, so firm in their belief that their love was worth everything that may come after.

But this Yasha, the Yasha who has already loved and lost and lost and lost, is different. She knows what she wants, but she also enjoys this nebulous space between wanting and having, likes the tension and the constant push-pull of flirtation that Beau draws out so easily from her. If their conversations keep ending with Beau taking on that radiant blush that softens her features, turns her brash eloquence into a stuttering mess, then Yasha is more than content to just enjoy the ride. She’s in no rush. 

This island has taken so much from her, her items, her memories, and once or twice nearly her friends. Still, Yasha can’t remember another time she’s used her meagre healing abilities so often, or felt so much at peace. After Zuala, she’d never even dared think about happiness as a possibility again. It felt too risky, too selfish, too much. 

But here she is, almost delirious with emotion. _Happy butterflies_ , times a thousand. There’s an unbearable lightness growing in the center of her chest, a release of a kind she’s never felt before. 

For the first time since fleeing Xhorhas, Yasha finds herself looking forward to what the future may hold.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s beau. the future holds beau. and so does yasha.
> 
> title from vessels by julien baker because its 100% a yasha song and also because i will never stop using jb's lyrics for everything i write


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